


If You're Out On The Road

by fardareismai



Series: Where You Lead [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Gilmore Girls AU, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), everyone's in love and no one is saying anything, part of a series, relationship drama, where you lead 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9223946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fardareismai/pseuds/fardareismai
Summary: Just when Killian and Emma seem ready to even acknowledge that there might possibly be something between them, a ghost from Killian's past arrives and throws a wrench in everything.Part 2 of the Where You Lead 'verse, a Once Upon a Time, Gilmore Girls-style AU with a Captain Swan endgame.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Happy 2017 everyone. As my holiday gift for all of you, I offer this second installment in the[Where You Lead](http://archiveofourown.org/series/537973) 'verse. If you're new to the 'verse, it is a Captain Swan (eventually) Gilmore Girls AU, and I definitely recommend starting with [I Always Wanted a Real Home with Flowers on the Windowsill](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7873537), the first story. I also recommend reading through the one-shots in the collection "[I Will Follow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8399323)."**
> 
> **For those of you wondering, this story belongs just as much to WhoLockGal as to me, though she didn't write any of the chapters herself this time around.**
> 
> **This story is the second, and there are currently two more completely finished, and one more that I started writing this month, as well as plans upon plans for where these crazy kids are going!**
> 
> **I hope you all had a lovely December and welcome back to Where You Lead!**

Emma waved Grace and Henry off at the door to the Jolly Roger.

"Have a good day, you two. Gracie, tell your dad I'll call if I'll be later than 6:30 to pick Henry up tonight. Henry, be sure to thank Mr. Madigan for everything."

The two not-quite-teens rolled their eyes and continued up the sidewalk together, ignoring this parental interruption of their argument about Henry's new video game.

Emma entered the restaurant, but turned immediately to watch Henry and Grace approach the school, around which the kids from town were milling.

There were Nick and Ava, calling out to Henry and Grace, who waved back at them. There was Marco's nephew Paolo, a few years younger than Grace and Henry and who looked up to them with fierce devotion. There were Peter and Felix, in their last year before moving up to the high school, watching the younger kids with self-conscious disdain.

And there She was. Emma saw Grace poke Henry in the ribs and she could see Henry straighten his back and rub his palms over his jeans as though nervous as the girl walked over to join their conversation.

"You're putting fingerprints on my door, Swan," came a voice from behind Emma.

She ignored Killian, preferring to continue watching her son, though she removed her hand from the glass of the door.

"What are you looking at?" Killian stepped right up behind her, craning his neck to look over her shoulder, one hand falling carelessly to her hip.

"That girl there," Emma said, pointing. "The one talking to Henry and Grace? That's Violet Pendragon."

"Aye?" Killian said, making it clear that he had no idea why this was pertinent information.

"Her mom and dad, Gwen and Arthur, run a Christmas Tree farm outside of town."

"A Christmas Tree farm?"

"Well, Christmas Trees, summer apples, pumpkins… I think they do roses in the spring… hayrides and corn mazes, that kind of thing. It's great fun for kids."

"Not really something we had in England, but I'll take your word for it. And this is important, why? Is the Inn thinking of using them as a supplier?"

Emma shook her head, not taking her eyes off the kids. "Not that I've heard. Henry invited Violet to the birthday party Regina threw him last month."

"Are you likely to get to the point soon, Swan? I do have a business to run and, decorative as you may be, you're blocking the door."

Emma gave an exasperated huff. "He's been talking about her constantly since."

She turned suddenly to face Killian, putting herself right up against him, hip-to-hip and chest-to-chest. She didn't seem to notice the intimacy of the position, however, just looked up into Killian's blue eyes, a pleading look in her green ones.

"Eleven is too young for him to be thinking about girls, isn't it?"

Killian leaned against her again to look at the angst-inducing group at the school entrance.

"Depends a bit on the lad. The lass too, and that one's very pretty."

Emma groaned and dropped her head onto Killian's shoulder, which made him laugh.

"Do you want me to have a talk with Henry?" He asked, patting her back soothingly. "A man-to-man chat about girls?"

Emma didn't lift her head from his shoulder so her answer was muffled in the flannel of his shirt.

"He's not a man yet. He's still a boy. I am not ready for him to be a man and to like girls."

Killian chuckled again, and his pat became a stroke up and down her spine.

"Unless stopping the town clock tower would keep him a child forever, you'll have to get used to the idea at some point. He'll be a man before you know it."

Emma shook her head in the negative against his shoulder. "Boys are sweet and love their mothers. Men are cowards and tend to smell bad."

"Oi!"

She finally lifted her head to look up at him, grinning. "You're not so bad."

Killian rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Your esteem for me is humbling, Swan."

For a long moment, the pair of them just grinned at each other. Killian was the first to break the spell, reaching his left hand up to scratch behind his ear as he did when he was nervous.

"Emma," he said, sliding his eyes away from hers in nerves, trailing to a spot over her left shoulder and then stopping. He froze, hand to his ear, mouth open. Emma wondered if he was even breathing, he had gone so still.

"Killian, what?"

Emma turned to see what he had seen, only to find a woman standing at the Jolly's entrance, which the pair of them had been blocking.

She was taller than Emma by a few inches- nearly Killian's height with lush, dark hair, grey eyes, and an odd half-smile as she looked at them.

Emma suddenly realized what they must look like- practically wrapped around each other and grinning like lovesick teens. She supposed they were lucky they'd been interrupted by a stranger rather than someone from town who would raise gossip in a heartbeat. Killian, even moreso than Emma, hated gossip.

When Killian didn't immediately move out of the way of the door to let the woman in, however, Emma glanced back at him to find that he was still frozen, face pale and staring at the woman on the other side of the glass as though he were looking at a ghost.

"Jones? Kil, what's wrong? Who is that?"

Her voice seemed to startle him back to reality because he finally took a sharp breath and released it on a single word.

"Milah."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Last week's chapter was very short. A tease or taste, if you will. This is much more to the point.**
> 
> **Those of you who read Flowers will know that I introduced our David in that one, but this chapter was written before that introduction and was, in my head, David's real introduction.**
> 
> **Enjoy and happy Fanfiction Friday!**

Emma felt like she was walking through fog as she entered the Inn's kitchen. All around her the staff swirled and shouted, the epitome of organized chaos, but in the centre, the eye of the storm, was Mary Margaret, serene and smiling and exactly what Emma needed as balm to her own inner tempest.

"Emma? Are you okay?"

Emma blinked at met her friend's dark eyes.

"Um…" she began, eloquently.

"You're shaking," Mary Margaret said, taking one of Emma's hands in her own. She hadn't noticed, but her hands were trembling slightly. "How much coffee have you had today, Em?"

Emma frowned for a second, thinking back. She'd fled the Jolly Roger as quickly as possible, making some inane excuse to leave as Killian continued to stare at the newcomer as though she were a vision of water in the desert.

"I… uh… I haven't had any coffee yet today."

Mary Margaret's eyes went wide. "None? Goodness, sit down and I'll get you a cup." She shoved Emma onto the stool that stood beside her station and allowed the small woman to reach the pots and pans that hung from the ceiling above her work station.

Emma stared down at her shaking hands and wondered what the hell was going on with her.

A cup of coffee appeared over those hands and Emma wrapped them around the cup, taking a long sip of the syrup-sweet liquid- Mary Margaret knew her so well- and letting the familiar taste brush away some of the cobwebs in her head.

"So what happened to keep you from the Jolly today?" Mary Margaret asked, leaning her hip against the counter with her own cup of coffee in hand.

"I did go, actually. I… uh… There's this girl at school that I think Henry might have a bit of a crush on-"

"Surely he's too young for crushes! He's only eleven!"

Emma shrugged. She was starting to feel a bit less out-of-sync as the coffee hit her system. She thought perhaps Killian had a point when he called her an addict.

"Killian thinks maybe he isn't too young. And, well… he was an eleven-year-old boy once, and we weren't, after all."

"Okay… I suppose I can understand your worry about Henry, but why did that stop you getting your coffee? I'm surprised Killian let you leave without it… he has to know by now that you need it to function."

"He was… uh… distracted."

Mary Margaret's dark brows shot up her face. "Distracted? By what?"

Emma stared into her coffee cup for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "You know that tattoo he has on his arm?" Emma lifted her left arm to indicate.

"Yeah. The one that says Milah?"

"That's the one. Well, she showed up at the diner."

Mary Margaret frowned. "Who?"

"Milah."

Mary Margaret's eyes went wide. "Wait, _Milah_ Milah? The same Milah? The one from the tattoo?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "It's not that common a name, is it? And Killian was definitely looking at her like you'd look at someone whose name you have tattooed but you never talk about."

"That's… that's oddly specific. How do you know what that look is? Do _you_ have someone's name tattooed on you?"

"No," Emma said, flatly. "And I can imagine what that look is, I have an excellent imagination, just ask Henry."

Mary Margaret had already moved past those questions. "What is she like? What happened between them?"

"I didn't ask, I… left. Without my coffee, if you'll remember."

That seemed to snap Mary Margaret back to the situation at hand. "Yes, I do remember. Why? I know we all thought she might be dead, but you're not the type to be scared of ghosts, not when they show up at the Jolly, anyway. And not if you're still short your morning coffee."

Emma blushed, which made Mary Margaret lean closer. "Emma, what happened?"

She sighed. "We were watching Henry and the girl, Violet, out the front door of the diner and we were kind of… close to each other. Crowding each other? And… maybe I turned to talk to him, but we were still… close? And I guess, from the outside it probably looked like maybe… we were cuddling?"

"You and Killian? But you're both so… You're not, are you?"

"No, Mary Margaret, there is nothing between me and Killian Jones but friendship." At least, she was pretty sure there wasn't.

"So why did you run away from Milah?"

Emma sighed. "Imagine, for instance, that you and David were… crowding each other. Maybe you had your head on his shoulder and then Katherine," Emma referred to the wife from David's short-lived marriage, "showed up and saw you two. You know that nothing is happening between you-" though Emma suspected there should be, even if Mary Margaret couldn't yet see it "-but Katherine could get the wrong impression."

"David doesn't have feelings for Katherine anymore," Mary Margaret said.

Emma sighed. "But what if you didn't know that? Besides, they were married, he has to have _some_ kind of feelings for her!"

That made Mary Margaret frown. "Do you think so? Do you think David is still in love with Katherine?"

Emma stared at her friend for a long moment. She had no idea when she'd lost control of the conversation, but she supposed this was better than talking about whether she and Killian were anything more than friends.

And whether she wanted them to be…

No, she wasn't thinking about that at all. Nor about the way her heart had twisted with pleasure when he'd offered to talk to her son about girls. Like a dad.

"I don't think David is still in love with Katherine, no. They're divorced-"

"But didn't _she_ break up with _him_? Maybe he's still pining for her!"

"Mary Margaret, I wasn't saying that David still feels romantically about Katherine, just that he probably feels _something_ for her. Like I feel for Neal or you feel for your exes."

Mary Margaret's eyes went wide. "You think David feels for Katherine like you feel for Neal?"

Now it was Emma's turn to frown. "What do you mean 'like I feel for Neal'? Don't tell me you think I'm still in love with that bastard! You haven't said anything to Henry, have you?"

Mary Margaret looked stricken. "No, of course I haven't talked about your love life with Henry! But Emma, every time he comes around you do get… confused and… distracted."

"He's my son's father and a reminder of a rather difficult and heartbreaking part of my life. I think I'm entitled to both confusion and distraction and a whole assortment of other emotions!"

"Of course you are!" Mary Margaret cried, placatingly. "I didn't say you aren't, I just always thought… well… you made Henry together and I know he'd love it if his parents were to-"

"Stop." Emma's tone was such that Mary Margaret shut her mouth with a click that was audible even over the bustle of the kitchen. Emma stood. "Look, Mary Margaret, life isn't a fairy tale. Neal and I made Henry together, and Henry's a pretty great kid, but you don't need _love_ to make a baby, you need _sex_. We were kids and we were stupid and I would do a lot of things to make Henry happy, but I will _not_ be that stupid again. Besides, have you forgotten his _fiancee_?"

Mary Margaret looked like she wanted to say more, but Emma's face made it clear that the subject was closed.

"What about Killian then?"

Emma looked up from her cup of coffee. "What _about_ Killian?"

"You said you two were cuddling, and you ran away from his ex-"

Emma groaned and rocked backward to thump the back of her head against the wall behind her. Mary Margaret, though undeterred by her audience's reaction, was fortunately distracted by the kitchen's service door opening to allow in a nicely-formed bottom in faded blue jeans.

The bottom was followed by the rest of David who was carrying a palette of tomatoes. Once through the door, he turned into the kitchen, light eyes scanning the kitchen staff quickly until he landed on Mary Margaret where he stopped and grinned.

Emma couldn't help a smile when she saw her friend's answering grin. The pair of them were so heartwarmingly mad for each other and so eye-rollingly oblivious that it was a bit like high school sometimes. Emma knew that Mary Margaret was besotted with David, and he with her. Ruby knew it. Granny knew it. Henry knew it. Regina probably knew it, and she avoided Storybrooke assiduously. The only people who didn't know it were Mary Margaret and David.

"Finest tomatoes from the farm, just for you, Mary Margaret!" He said, ducking and weaving through the rest of the kitchen staff to lay the palette before her like an offering, continuing to grin at her like a fool.

Emma knew that if she didn't break this up soon, they would just continue to smile at each other for the rest of the day, so she joined the pair and bumped her shoulder against David's.

"Morning, David. Did you like girls when you were eleven?"

He blinked in surprise as though he hadn't realized anyone but Mary Margaret was in the kitchen.

"Girls?"

Emma bit back a laugh at his absolute confusion. "Yeah, you know-" she sketched an hourglass figure in the air with her hands, "tended to be taller than you at the time, usually wore their hair longer, probably confused you a bit. Probably still do, but we're talking about when you were eleven specifically. Were you thinking about girls as anything but friends?"

David frowned in thought. "Is this about Henry?" He was thoughtful by nature, but rarely moreso than about Henry, who he considered, if not a surrogate son, at least a nephew.

"Yeah, he's got a girl he's been talking about a lot, and I'm wondering if I should be worried or…"

"Who's that?" He asked, finally turning to give Emma his full attention while Mary Margaret began examining tomatoes.

"Violet Pendragon. You actually might know her parents-"

"Arthur and Gwen, yeah. Arthur and I go way back. Violet's a sweet girl."

"I never said she wasn't," Emma said. "I just… I'm not sure I'm ready for him to like girls. Especially if he manages a more competent social life than I do."

David smiled. "Do you want me to talk to him? You know, about girls?"

Emma sighed and waved the offer off with a flick of her wrist. "No, that's fine. Killian offered this morning. Henry's going to think you're all ganging up on him." She glanced down at her phone and her green eyes jumped open in surprise. "Crap, I'm late. I'm gonna grab another cup of coffee, then I've got to get out of here. Good to see you, Dave. Thanks for the talk and the caffeine, Mary Margaret!"

David watched Emma out of the kitchen. He remembered the scared kid she'd been when first she'd landed in Storybrooke- barely speaking to anyone, trusting no one, always ready to run. It struck him anew just how much she'd grown in the years since, and he couldn't help a proud smile.

"You might talk to Henry anyway," Mary Margaret interrupted his thoughts. "Killian might be distracted for a bit."

David turned to find Mary Margaret frowning at the flat of tomatoes in a way that told David he was in for an argument.

"What's distracting Killian?"

"His ex-girlfriend is in town. Are you sure these are my tomatoes?"

"Of course they're your tomatoes, they're the best. What ex-girlfriend?"

"Milah. From the tattoo." Mary Margaret raised her left arm to demonstrate. "These don't smell like the best, they smell like they're from the hot house."

"It's spring in Maine, Mary Margaret, they _are_ from the hot house. If you don't want hot house tomatoes, don't order them from me until the summer. What is Milah doing in town? I didn't think she and Killian had spoken in… well… since he came back to Storybrooke."

Mary Margaret shrugged, continuing to pick through the tomatoes with a critical eye. "Maybe they're going to rekindle. She might move here. I don't really know what broke them up, do you?"

David shook his head, continuing to frown. "I wouldn't have thought Killian was in the market."

That caught her attention. "What do you mean? Is he seeing someone? How have I not heard about this?"

David shrugged uncomfortably. He wished he hadn't said anything. He knew both Killian and Emma hated to be gossipped about, and Mary Margaret wasn't known for her discretion, but she was giving him that look that he had always found impossible to deny.

"I guess I always kind of figured that Killian and Emma…" he trailed off, hoping that he wouldn't have to spell things out.

Mary Margaret was shaking her head, however. "Emma says they're just friends."

"So does Killian but, I dunno… I think if they'd both just open their eyes they could see it."

"See what?" Mary Margaret asked, frowning at him. "They're always fighting."

"Fighting?" David had never seen the pair _fight_. They argued, teased, poked, and annoyed, but they never fought that he had seen, and even if they did, they always came out of it laughing.

"Emma's had it hard, she deserves someone who'll be nice to her, not fight with her about her caffeine intake or her diet or-"

"He's _teasing_ her, Mary Margaret. People do that- they disagree and argue and tease, but it doesn't mean they love each other any less. Besides, she gives it right back to him for being a stick-in-the-mud and a workaholic."

"He's so prickly!" Mary Margaret objected. "I always imagined Emma with someone… _nice_! Someone who would be gentle to her- she's got all those walls."

"Killian _is_ nice."

David hadn't expected, as he'd loaded up his truck with the week's delivery for the Inn and prepared himself to see Mary Margaret, the highlight of his week, that he would find himself defending Killian Jones to her, but David and Killian had been friends since Liam Jones had purchased the empty storefront on the square nearly 15 years before, young brother in tow. "And Emma wouldn't want someone who was too sweet- she's got her own rough edges. Killian loves Henry, he gives Emma back as good as she gives, and… I dunno… I guess I always thought their rough edges fit together well."

Mary Margaret sighed. "I just don't know. My parents never fought. I don't think I could stand being with someone I argued with."

David didn't think it would be fair to remind Mary Margaret that her mother had died when she was far too young to really know the shape of her parents' relationship. They probably had fought, argued, and teased, just not in front of their impressionable young daughter.

"So you're looking for a love story out of a Disney movie?" David asked, wishing he wasn't quite so interested in her answer. "Where two people meet, love at first sight, sing a song, and it's all beer and skittles from then on?"

"Beer and skittles?"

David waved the question away. "Something Robin says sometimes. It's apparently an English thing."

"I'm not naive, David. I know life isn't a romantic comedy, I just don't think it's so crazy to think that two people who are in love wouldn't fight."

David sighed. He and Mary Margaret argued regularly- about Emma and Henry, about the quality of the vegetables he brought her every week, about whether the town should continue to celebrate Columbus Day with a parade or if they should change the name to Indigenous People's Day, and about just about everything else that came up. He had always thought it proof of their compatibility, but clearly he was alone in that perception.

"Right then. Agree to disagree, I suppose. I'm going to… head out then." The rest of the kitchen staff had unloaded his truck while he'd been talking to the women, and he should really get back to the farm.

"Is something wrong, David?" Mary Margaret asked.

He wanted to reach out and smooth the crease that formed between her brows when she frowned. Her face was perfectly smooth save for that one spot that wrinkled charmingly as her bold eyebrows drew together. He didn't touch her, however.

"Not a thing. I'll see you around, Mary Margaret."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **My fellow Americans know that today is a very strange day in our nation's history, and I hope that everyone is safe and healthy (in both body and mind) and that they all stay that way in the next four years.**
> 
> **In that vein, I offer you some Swan Believer and Captain Cobra, 'cause on a day like today, we deserve it.**

Henry's mom was looking away when he came into the entryway of the antique shop, and she didn't hear him approach. He stopped a few feet away and just looked at her for a moment as she stood thinking herself unobserved.

He was pretty sure that his mom was the most beautiful lady in the world. She looked like a Disney princess- Sleeping Beauty, or Cinderella, as she was blonde, rather than Henry's personal favorite, Snow White.

He must have made a noise because she turned and smiled at him. He liked it when she smiled- she always looked the most beautiful when she did. Henry held a personal (and secret) belief that his mom _was_ a fairy tale princess who was under a curse, and someday she would find her true love and together they would break that curse.

Henry was never quite sure where he belonged in that story though. Fairy tales didn't usually include single moms and their half-grown kids. Step-parents were always evil and kids were always props. People didn't get pregnant accidentally- they were either thrilled to get pregnant or they had to contract magic to do so.

People in fairy tales don't consider giving their kids up for adoption. Fairies and witches steal them away.

He used to resent his mom for considering giving him up, but Killian had talked him out of that one night when he was about seven, over a strawberry milkshake.

" _Do you remember when Mr. and Mrs. Hart had Jack?" Killian had asked, referring to the baby boy who had been born in town the previous summer. "Do you remember the first time you held him?"_

_Henry did. He'd remembered the tiny heavy bundle being placed in his lap. For the first few minutes, the baby had lain still and he'd stared in open-mouthed fascination. Then, without warning, Jack had started to squirm. Then he'd started to scream._

" _I had no idea what to do when he started crying," Henry admitted._

" _Aye, and it scared you a bit, right?"_

_Henry had nodded._

" _Now, think how much more scared you would have been if your mum and Jack's mum and dad and Mary Margaret and Ruby and I hadn't been there to help."_

_He'd waited for a long moment while Henry had imagined that kind of fear._

" _You might have wanted to put wee Jack down and run away, aye?"_

" _My mom was older than I was. And she had Granny and Ruby and… and everyone in town to help!"_

" _Aye, she did. And that's why she kept you, my lad. But she was scared to death, and that's why she thought you might do better with someone else- someone who could give you your best chance. Your mum has always wanted what was best for you. Don't give her too hard a time, okay?"_

"Hey kid," his mom said, draping an arm over his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. "Did you finish your homework?"

"Yeah."

"And did you thank Mr. Madigan for letting you hang out here tonight?"

"Yeah."

"And did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah."

"And are there purple elephants stampeding through Main Street?"

"What?" Henry asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion. "Purple elephants?"

His mom laughed. "I just wanted to be sure you still remembered how to say anything but ' _yeah_.'"

Henry pulled out of his mom's hug as she tossed a shouted "thanks, Jefferson," back into the depths of the mad antique shop.

"Yeah, I probably still remember other words. Are we going to the Jolly for supper tonight? I want a strawberry milkshake."

"I dunno, kid. Killian's got a friend in from out of town, the Jolly might be closed so they can hang out together."

Henry pointed at the glowing windows of the diner. "Doesn't look closed to me. We should go meet his friend!"

"I was thinking maybe pizza sounded better than a burger. We could order at home."

Henry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. His mom was blushing slightly. He wondered if Killian had done something to her to make her upset with him. He didn't want to get into the middle of it but…

"I kind of wanted to ask Killian a question… see, we started talking about Ellis Island in History today, and how all of the immigrants came over from England and Ireland and Italy. Killian came from England, right?"

"Yeah, when he was about 15. Him and his brother Liam. Do you remember Liam at all?"

Henry shrugged. He did a little bit, but not very much.

"Anyway, I wanted to ask Killian if he remembered Ellis Island too."

His mom chuckled. "I don't think it works that way anymore, kid, but you're welcome to ask him. You go on and talk to him and I'll hit the grocery for ingredients for strawberry milkshakes."

" _You_ know how to make strawberry milkshakes?" Henry asked, eyes going wide. "As good as Killian's?"

That made his mom laugh out loud. "No idea if they'll be as good as Killian's since he won't part with his secret recipe, but we can try our own secret recipe, what do you say?"

"Awesome!"

Emma gave him a light shove between the shoulders. "Go and talk to him. I'll pick you up there when I'm done. Order me a coffee to go, won't you?"

"He won't give it to you."

She shrugged. "He likes you better than me, so he might give it to you."

Henry rolled his eyes and pushed open the door to the Jolly Roger. Killian wasn't at the counter, there was a woman there with long brown hair and light eyes that seemed surprised to see him.

That was unusual. No one in town was ever surprised to see Henry- even if he didn't know them, everyone knew him and practically had since he was a baby, but the woman's grey eyes watched him climb up onto his usual stool and rest his elbows on the counter with just a bare hint of suspicion.

"Where is Mr. Jones?" Henry asked, trying to be as polite as possible to this strange woman.

"He's in the back," she said, gesturing toward the door into the kitchen. "He'll be back out in a few minutes."

Henry smiled. "You must be Killian's friend from out of town. My mom said you were visiting. You have the same accent as him."

She gave him a crooked smile. "Not quite, but close. You and Killian are friends?"

"Oh yeah, the best! He makes the second-best hot chocolate in town, and my mom would probably climb the walls without his coffee. Speaking of which, could I have a cup of chocolate and a large coffee to go?"

"For your mum, I suppose. You seem a bit young to be drinking coffee. It'll stunt your growth."

Henry smiled politely. It wasn't the first time he'd been told that.

"And I suppose your mum will be in to pay for it soon, yeah?"

That did surprise Henry. Killian had never asked him about payment. Even if his mom didn't show up and give him money, and he just walked out with their cups, Killian never said a word. He wondered if that meant he and his mom had been stealing from their friend for years.

"Um… yeah," he said, frowning. "She's just down the way at the grocery store. She'll be here in a few minutes."

"Well, that's alright then," the brown-haired woman said, setting a cup of chocolate without whipped cream or cinnamon in front of him.

Henry was too confused and unsettled to ask her to fix the drink. His contemplation of this upsetting prospect was interrupted by Killian's entering from the back.

"Ahoy, my lad," he called, making Henry look up from his drink. "Where's the rest of your chocolate then?"

"Um…" Henry shrugged, then glanced awkwardly at the brown-haired woman who was watching them both with her arms folded across her chest.

"Oh," Killian said, understanding. "Well she's new, we'll give her a bit of a break." He took Henry's cup and added whipped cream and cinnamon to it before placing it back in front of him. He noticed the white take-away cup as he did. "If your mother thinks she'll get coffee out of me at this hour of the night just because she sent you to pick it up instead of asking for it herself, she's barmy," he said, taking the cup away and pouring the coffee inside down the sink.

That made Henry smile. "I told her you wouldn't give it to her."

"Because you're far cleverer than she is."

The woman vanished into the back of the restaurant, leaving Killian and Henry alone at the counter.

"Killian?" Henry asked, sounding small and scared.

Killian frowned at his young friend. "Aye lad, what's the matter?"

"It's something your friend said, I just… sometimes I get my mom's and my drinks and I leave and I don't know that we pay for them and I was wondering… I was afraid… maybe we were stealing from you?" Henry was halfway to tears by the time he got to the end of this.

"No, lad, nothing of the sort," Killian said, quickly, trying to calm Henry down. "I keep a tab for your mum, you know. A record of the things you or she orders and then I let her know and she pays for it all when she comes in. You're fine, Henry. I promise."

Henry blinked up at him, those wide, dark eyes- his father's eyes rather than his mother's- looking desperately hopeful.

"Really?" he asked.

"Aye, never you fear. Now, are you planning on ordering yourself some supper tonight? It's Thursday, that's usually hamburgers."

"Not tonight. We're ordering pizza and making strawberry milkshakes at home."

Killian raised his brows in surprise at this news. "Your mum? She knows how to make milkshakes?"

"She said she did, yeah. Since you won't give out your secret recipe, we're going to come up with our own."

"Oh really? And I suppose you'll tell Mary Margaret what it is and strawberry milkshakes will become a new speciality at the Inn and this place won't have any claim to fame anymore, is that it?"

That made Henry laugh. The fact that his mom's two best friends each ran a different restaurant was the source of a lot of teasing and tension among the three of them. He knew Mary Margaret and Killian weren't really rivals, but the fact that both Emma and Henry agreed that her hot chocolate was better than his rankled him a bit.

"I actually had a question for you about school," Henry said.

~?~?~?~?~

Emma felt like an idiot looking through the glass on the front entrance of the Jolly Roger. She'd never been nervous to enter the place and yet she was relieved to see only the two dark heads of Killian and Henry, bent together over a mug of chocolate, no Milah in sight.

When the bell over the door rang, the two men turned to look at her, eyes that were so different from each other sparkling nearly identically.

"Were you just talking about me?" she asked, suspicious of the way her favourite brown eyes in the world widened in surprise.

"No!" They both said in unison and completely untruthfully.

"Hmph. Good things, I hope."

"Always, Mom," Henry said with that charming smile that had melted her heart from the first time she'd seen him.

Emma crossed the room to her son and draped an arm over his shoulder. "You done with your questions for Killian, Kid? Ready to head home for supper?"

"Yeah!" Henry said, scrambling off his stool.

"Here, take the ice cream and put it in the car. I'll pay for your chocolate and meet you out there. Apparently you couldn't charm me a cup of coffee."

Henry grinned and shrugged. "I got Killian's friend to make one, but Killian poured it out."

Emma shook her head, shooting a mock glare at Killian. "Waste of good coffee, Jones." She pushed the groceries into Henry's arms. "Out with you then."

"You could just put the chocolate on our tab," Henry offered, smiling the way he always did when he got to use a new word or term.

Emma's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She turned to look at Killian who was avoiding her eyes.

"Uh… yeah. We'll see about that. Go on then, Kid, or the ice cream'll melt."

Henry left the diner and Emma turned to Killian. "Tab?"

Killian shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "The lad was worried about how you don't always pay for the chocolate or coffee. He thought you were stealing from me and it… upset him. I told him I kept a tab for you and you paid it off when you needed to."

"Liam did that… for awhile. Back when Henry was really young and I couldn't…"

Killian took her hand, stopping her. "I know."

"But he stopped asking after a while and I never thought…" Her eyes lifted to his, suddenly as distressed as her son. "Kil, I'm sorry. I didn't intend-"

"Emma, hush," he said, squeezing her hand. "It's nothing."

"It's not-"

"It is, Love. It's the occasional coffee or hot chocolate, and it's my place. I can give a friend a cup of coffee if I want. Or a doughnut."

Emma smiled tentatively up at him, and he smiled back. The moment stretched long and quiet between the pair of them until a crash from the kitchen made them both look back.

Killian took his hand off of Emma's and reached up to scratch behind his ear. "That'll be Milah. I should… go check that she's alright."

"And I should get Henry home and feed him before someone calls CPS on me."

Emma crossed to the door and laid a hand on it to push open, but she stopped and turned back to face the diner. Killian hadn't left his post at the counter where he watched her.

"I'll see Milah tomorrow at the Inn then?" she asked. It wasn't her finest attempt at subtle information-gathering, but she thought he wouldn't call her on it.

"Erm… no. Milah will be staying with me. Seems silly to make her pay for a room when I've the space, see?"

Emma nodded, feeling suddenly as though a lead weight had dropped into her stomach. She turned and began to push the door open again when his voice halted her.

"Emma? I'll see you tomorrow, won't I? For coffee?"

She turned and gave him a smile that felt forced. From the look on his face, it looked the same.

"You always do."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **New chapter day is a very dangerous day.**

Emma pulled the Bug into the spot right in front of the entrance to the Jolly Roger, blessing the fact that her alarm had managed to wake her up properly for once and gotten her and Henry out the door in time to catch the prime spot.

"Alright, Kid, we've got time for waffles but only if we're quick, okay?"

Henry rolled his eyes. Emma was, as ever, the eternal source of their tardiness.

"Don't give me that look," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You are too young to be rolling your eyes and acting like I don't know anything."

"I didn't say-"

"You didn't have to. Now, out of my car you ungrateful spawn or all you'll have for breakfast is stale bread and tepid water. Out!'

Henry snorted at this but climbed out of the car anyway. Emma couldn't help but grin as she climbed out as well, wrapping an arm around Henry's shoulders and rumpling his hair with her opposite hand.

"I have this weird sense that you don't believe me, my boy. I should work on being more intimidating."

"Yeah, you work on that," Henry said, ducking out from under her arm and reaching up to flatten his hair. He bounced over to the door of the diner and was just about to push inside when a voice from up the street halted him.

"Emma! Henry! Wait!"

They turned to see Ruby hurrying toward them on a set of impractical heels that she managed as though born to them. She was balancing a pair of travel cups on top of each other in one hand and had a paper bag in the other. She made it to the bemused pair just in time for Emma to catch the top cup and keep it from tumbling to the ground.

"Hot chocolate?" Emma asked, prising off the lid.

"Compliments of your second best friend, Mary Margaret," Ruby agreed with a grin. "That one's for Henry, I've got something special for you, Emma. Half hot chocolate, half coffee. It's a mocha!"

Emma raised her eyebrows but passed Henry his drink anyway to free her hands to take her own. She took a sip and rolled her eyes back in her head in appreciation.

"Ambrosia. Your idea or Mary Margaret's?" she asked Ruby.

"Mine, obviously. That's why she's only your _second_ best friend today. Oh! And I have these." Ruby passed the paper bag to Henry. "Chocolate beignets with powdered sugar. It's a new recipe and she wanted you to try it."

"Sweet!" Henry said, peering into the bag. "There are half a dozen in here, are they all for me?"

Ruby laughed. "I was thinking you might share them with your mom and me, or maybe some of your friends from school."

"Eat all of those and you'll make yourself sick, Kid," Emma agreed. "Arthur just pulled up to the school, you can see if Violet wants some?"

Henry straightened suddenly, a light flush coming to his cheeks. "Really? That's okay? You don't want to try them?"

Emma bit back a smile. "I'll get some from the source when I get into work, no worries. Go on then."

Henry grinned and waved goodbye to Emma and Ruby before rushing off. Emma watched him down the road to the school before turning on Ruby with a narrowed eye.

"What is going on, Rubes?"

Ruby widened her brown eyes, trying to look innocent. "There's nothing-"

"You're lying," Emma said.

"You know, you call it a superpower, but there's no such thing."

Emma said nothing, just raised an eyebrow as she continued to glare at Ruby who sighed.

"Fine! Mary Margaret was at the front desk this morning. She said that you'd said that Killian's ex-girlfriend was in town and she was trying to figure out what room she was staying in."

Emma shook her head. "There are too many 'she's in that story."

Ruby narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "Mary Margaret was trying to figure out what room the ex was staying in."

"Her name is Milah."

Ruby ignored this. "-So she's not in the guest book- no one new checked in yesterday, it's still just the group for the wedding this weekend-"

Emma opened her mouth to explain where Milah was, but Ruby interrupted her.

"-Anyway, Leroy showed up at the desk then-"

"Probably to ask where his breakfast was." Leroy's addiction to Mary Margaret's lemon poppy-seed pancakes was local legend.

"-And he said that the ex isn't staying at the Inn, she's staying with Killian!"

This seemed to be the end of Ruby's information, and she gave Emma a look as though this should be important, world-stopping news. Emma, however, was less-than impressed.

"Yeah, he told me that last night. That's probably when Leroy heard it too."

"And that doesn't _bother_ you?" Ruby asked, incredulous.

Emma answered with the same mantra she had been repeating on loop in her head for 12 hours. "It is none of my business."

"You know that's crap. I know that's crap. Everyone in town knows that's absolute crap, Emma!"

Emma closed her eyes, trying to keep from yelling at her friend. "Killian and I are friends, Rubes. It's all we've ever been and all we ever will be, okay? His romantic life is none of my business except that I'm happy for him. Like a _friend_."

"So the fact that she's wearing his shirt doesn't bother you at all?"

"What?" Emma asked in shock, turning to look where Ruby was at the woman standing in front of the door to the Jolly Roger, watching the pair of them with her arms crossed across the blue flannel shirt that Killian had been wearing the previous day.

"Hey," Milah called out the front door of the diner. "Are you two planning on coming in? Only I really shouldn't let you take that spot if you're not, you know?"

Emma and Ruby glanced down at the Bug and then up at each other in confusion. There were no real rules about parking downtown, and Ruby had just opened her mouth to say something of the sort when Emma laid a hand on her arm.

"It's fine, Ruby. I'll just… get a coffee."

"It looks like you already have one," Milah said, nodding at the white cup in Emma's hand.

Emma shrugged and drained the cup in a single go. "Now I don't. Guess I'll need another then, won't I?"

Milah shrugged and pushed the door to the Jolly open with a shoulder, welcoming Emma in.

"Do you want me to come?" Ruby asked, narrowing her eyes slightly at the diner.

"You know what I want? I have been meaning to ask Mulan how much Tae Kwon Do lessons for kids Henry's age are. Why don't you go ask her for me?"

Ruby looked at Emma with an odd cock of her head before letting a small grin light her face. "Yeah, okay. Just for Henry though, right?"

Emma laughed as Ruby took off across the square, loping like a wolf. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Lucas," she muttered before turning back to the door of the diner where Milah was watching the interplay with an expression of wary curiosity.

"They've been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and they're still in that stage where they're making out in corners every chance they get," Emma explained as she followed the older woman in. "You're probably not interested in small-town gossip though."

Milah shrugged as she made her way around the counter. "It's not so bad. You all just know so much about each other. I don't stay in one place often enough to get to know anyone like that, really. It's probably a stupid question, but regular or decaf?"

"My personal opinion on decaf is that it completely misses the point of coffee. Kinda like non-alcoholic beer. I'm sorry about the moving around thing though, I know how lonely that can be. Are you with the military or something?"

"Lonely?" Milah said, glancing up from the cup she was filling. "I wouldn't say that, no. I like seeing new places and having adventures. I don't really like staying in one place for long. But Kil never told you about me?"

Emma shrugged awkwardly as she fiddled with a sugar packet. "I mean, I knew about you, a bit. Your name is tattooed on his arm. That alone says a lot. But he doesn't like to be gossipped about, Jones."

"So he never told you that he and I are in a band?"

Emma blinked, more surprised at the woman's use of the present-tense than anything else. "He is? I didn't even know he could play or sing until last month when he pulled out an old guitar and did Disney songs for Henry's birthday party."

That seemed to catch Milah by surprise. "He played guitar? He said he couldn't do that anymore, the lying devil."

Emma felt that she had somehow betrayed Killian's confidence by sharing the fact and opened her mouth to equivocate.

Milah wasn't paying attention though. "Even if his hand still isn't ready to play, I need him to sing. I could never harmonize with anyone like I could with Kil." She looked up and smiled at Emma. "That's why I'm here now, actually. A man like Killian Jones shouldn't be stuck in a place like this, you know?"

"Stuck?" Emma said, quietly.

"I feel bad. I should have come sooner, it was just rotten timing back then, you know? First my husband came back on the scene, and there were restraining orders and police. Kil's and my relationship got a bit strained then, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Emma could imagine, and as the woman continued to talk, the lead weight in her stomach that hadn't quite dissipated from the night before got heavier and heavier.

"Then, right after that, Killian had his accident and he had to drop out of the band for six months of physical therapy. He was just about to join back up when Liam called and he came here. I figured he'd come back after his brother died, but he never did."

Emma winced internally at what seemed to her to be a horribly callous manner of talking about the death of a man who had left a hole in both the community and Killian.

"Like I say, I should have come back sooner. He might not have buried himself if he'd known we still wanted him, you know?"

Emma was beginning to seethe. She and Killian had similar places in the community of Storybrooke- that of transplants adopted into the wider family of the town- and to hear Milah insist on disparaging that place angered her to no end.

"Why didn't you come back?" she asked, pleased to hear her voice so calm.

Milah shrugged again. "My husband and I reconciled for a little while, but that didn't last. He wouldn't come on tour and I couldn't stay put. We finally got divorced properly a few months ago and it seemed like it was time to find Kil again and let him know I was all-in this time." She glanced out the window with a rueful smile. "He'd actually love this place, my husband. It never changes, does it? It's exactly like I pictured it when Kil told me about it years ago. You said you used to travel. How do you stand it? The sameness?"

Emma decided against correcting the woman's impressions that she had apparently traveled for pleasure rather than at the whim of the child welfare system.

"I actually like the stability. I think it's good for Henry."

Milah nodded. "Right right, your son. You know I was shocked this morning. Kil talks about you all the time, it's Emma this and Swan that. You _are_ Emma Swan, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Guess I never formally introduced myself. Sorry about that."

Milah waved it off. "I figured. I mean, I saw you yesterday, right? I thought maybe, after I saw you two together and heard him talking about you that maybe you were the reason he'd stayed."

"We're not-"

"I knew you two couldn't be serious though, or he'd have sent me to the hotel last night. He's loyal, Killian. Doesn't cheat if he's in a proper relationship, but you know how he is. Passionate man like that." Milah gave Emma a broad, saucy grin and a conspiratorial wink and the lead weight in Emma's stomach grew another five pounds heavier.

"Imagine my surprise then when Emma Swan, of song and story, is also Henry's mum! It was a relief, honestly."

"Relief?" Emma asked faintly.

"Yeah. Man like Killian Jones isn't going to get himself mixed up with a mum. He doesn't like kids."

"He doesn't?"

"Nah. Kids are a hassle, and you can't take 'em on the road. I told him last night the band wants him back, so that'll be a consideration from now on."

"Oh? What did he say?"

Milah gave Emma a sphinx's smile. "Well, you said it yourself: he doesn't like being gossipped about." Her smile vanished as she looked at Emma closely for the first time. "You look a bit pale. Killian _was_ honest with you about your relationship, wasn't he? You haven't been picturing him as a part of Henry's life, like a dad or something. You know he's not father material, right?"

Emma thought of the years that Killian had been in hers and Henry's life. Of the cups of hot chocolate made just the way Henry liked them. Of him teaching her son to ride a bike and sail and swim. Of homework help when Emma just didn't know the material. Of handmade Harry Potter wands for Henry and his friends. Of a port in the storm.

Emma was saved having to contradict Milah by Killian finally making it down to the diner.

"Swan!" he called in greeting. "You being here means that either the world is ending or I am obscenely late. I have an idea which." He glared at Milah. "Why didn't my alarm go off?"

Milah shrugged, unconcerned. "I thought you looked like you deserved a lie-in. We were up late last night." She moved like she was going to give him a kiss on the cheek but Killian moved away. Milah looked annoyed, but rallied quickly. "You know I've slung coffee before, back when we were young, remember?"

Killian didn't respond to her flirting, just took the coffee pot out of her hand and placed it back on the warmer.

"There's a bit more to it at my place than just slinging coffee, Milah. You shouldn't have taken my alarm. Or my shirt." He picked up Emma's mug and took a sip without asking, making a face at the taste.

"Been too long since you made proper coffee," he said to Milah, then turned to Emma with a mildly amused expression. "If you're going to turn it into syrup, you might as well just order the hot chocolate."

"Ruby made something she called a mocha by mixing half hot chocolate and half coffee," Emma said, sliding into their usual banter without thinking, even with the heavy weight in her stomach brought about by Milah's presence in their lives and everything she represented.

"That's not coffee, Swan, it's dessert."

Emma opened her mouth to point out that that was, in fact, the point when she was interrupted by the jingle of the bell over the door.

"Hey Killian!" Ruby trilled from the door, sounding so cheerful that Emma knew she and Mulan had managed to get in a PG-13 interval. "Lovely day, good to see you back at the helm."

"Lucas," Killian answered with a nod.

"And Killian's girlfriend," Ruby said cheekily to Milah. "Hope you don't mind me stealing your new best friend, but the Inn will fall apart if I don't make her actually do her job, and then where will we all be? Come on, Em," she continued, taking Emma's elbow as she fumbled for a $5 to drop on the counter as the force of Hurricane Ruby swung her away, "if you drink any more coffee you're liable to start vibrating."

"You could always use her to generate electricity at the Inn," Killian suggested.

"I'll suggest it to Granny," Ruby threw over her shoulder as she continued to shove Emma out. "Always looking for cost-cutting measures, Granny, as room 501 is closed again. Hasta la vista, babies!"

Once the door of the Jolly slapped shut behind them, Emma doubled over with giggles. "Hasta la vista?" she asked once she could breathe. "What _year_ is it?"

"Shut up. You get that much British-ness in one place and I want to be as American as possible."

Emma continued to snigger as she unlocked the Bug to let Ruby in. "You know the phrase is actually Spanish, and Schwarzenegger is Austrian, right?"

"But the movie is 100% grade-A American. That's not important though. What is She like?"

"Milah?"

"Yeah, Her. Are they together? Is she staying? What's the deal?"

Emma sighed as she steered them toward the Inn. "I guess so. She seemed pretty open about the fact that they're sleeping together, anyway." Emma did not mention that she had also been pretty sure that Emma was sleeping with Killian as well, and hadn't seemed to mind.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course," Emma said lightly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Emma," Ruby growled, glaring at her friend. "I might not have a superpower, but I know when you're lying. Is she staying?"

"Rubes, Killian isn't going to be any happier about people gossiping about his girlfriend than he is about them gossiping about him."

"Well he's shit out of luck then, isn't he? Town this size, someone strolls into town and shacks up with the most eligible bachelor around and he thinks that's not going to generate gossip? He's dreaming."

Emma sighed. Ruby was right, of course. "She's not staying."

"Good! That's good, right?"

"She wants Killian to go with her when she does."

"No! He'd never! He wouldn't leave the Jolly. He wouldn't leave you and Henry!"

"Leave me and Henry what? Henry isn't his son. I'm not his girlfriend. What's he got to stay for besides the diner?"

Ruby threw herself back into the seat and crossed her arms over her chest as the Inn rose into sight ahead of them. "You can pretend all you want, Emma Swan, but you're going to have to face it someday: Killian Jones is never gonna leave you behind."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Some of you will notice that I am behind in answering reviews from last week's chapter. That's mostly because I was pretty shocked by the response the chapter got: you guys really _hate_ Milah. I find that surprising, because I don't... I actually like this version of Milah very much, and so I haven't really known what to say when you tell me how you think she must be lying about sleeping with Killian (she isn't), or how you think she's intentionally needling Emma (she sort of is, but no more than any person who is trying to figure out the relationship status of their own love interest without asking outright), or being angry with Killian for being involved with her in spite of the fact that there is, at this point in the story, nothing between him and Emma. I feel like defending Milah (and occasionally Killian) over and over again shouldn't be necessary if I haven't completely mis-written the character, and yet that was what I felt like I needed to do with each review.**
> 
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> **I spent a little bit of time this week wondering if I needed to pull the story down and re-write it to be sure that I hadn't written Milah wrong, but Wholockgal told me to stop second-guessing myself and let the story tell itself, so here it is.**
> 
>  
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> **I'll finish answering reviews soon, I hope. I apologize for letting myself get behind.**

Milah ducked into the back door of the diner, closing her black umbrella and shaking off the droplets of water from the deluge outside as she did.

There was something wrong, she thought, piqued, with any town that was equally charming in the rain as the sun. Most places she knew were appealing under one or the other- cities that sparkled under the sun tended to feel gloomy and greasy in the rain, and those that felt cozy in the rain tended to be garish in the sunlight.

Storybrooke, damn the place, was pleasant in both.

In the week and a half she had spent in the town, Milah had been searching for some great flaw that she could use to lever Killian out of the rut he had dug himself into.

At first she'd thought the place was Stepford- its well-maintained green spaces and overly-friendly people struck her as uncannily perfect and set her teeth on edge.

After a few days, however, as her novelty had worn off and tongues had loosened in her presence, the true character of the town had come out. There were conflicts and feuds and a constant low murmur of gossip that ran the gamut from mind-numbingly commonplace and benign to hair-curlingly wicked and malicious. The relationships in the town were tangled up together like string, and after unearthing that the mayor (who had a low-level feud with Killian) was the mostly-estranged ex-stepfather of the blonde bloke who supplied the diner's vegetables (and played in Killian's weekly poker game) who was in a star-crossed love affair with the head chef at the hotel (who Killian tended to try to extract new recipes from and who did the same to him, to no avail for either) which was run by an old woman who had once dated the carpenter (both of whom had a standing breakfast order at the diner for Sundays) and whose granddaughter (who had apparently never slept with Killian in spite of her obvious interest) dated the female martial arts teacher (who had loaned Killian a practice bokken from one of her classes for one reason or another that he kept forgetting to return to her) but had also occasionally slept with the owner of the claustrophobic antique shop and tea room (who supplied Killian the tea that he kept in his own kitchen in the flat above the diner) whose young daughter (chocolate milk and scrambled eggs on Saturday before her piano lesson) was best friends with Henry (hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon and cheeseburgers on Thursday) who was Emma's son, she had given up.

The main trouble was that this dysfunctional incestuousness did nothing to lessen the town's appeal. In fact, it seemed the greater for it.

More worrying even than the wicked web of relationships in the town was the way that Killian was wrapped up in them like the fly that was the spider's dinner, and Milah had suspicions about the identity of that spider.

In, above, around, and through everything was Emma Swan. Every morning in the diner for coffee and banter, twice a week for dinner with her son, in two out of three of Killian's stories and memories, Emma was mixed up in everything.

Milah had taken some time to consider the younger woman. She'd initially done some math and, knowing that Killian had been in Storybrooke the summer that Henry would have been conceived, wondered if his apparent loyalty to the Swans was actually guilt. The child looked nothing like him, but she supposed that Emma could have convinced him somehow. A few innocent questions killed that theory, however. Everyone in town, including Emma, Killian, and Henry themselves seemed to have no doubt of the lad's paternity. Some bloke named Neal who ranged in perception from a scared kid to a villain of fairy-tale proportions.

That theory disproven, Milah couldn't fathom what kept Killian so closely bound to the town. Emma was beautiful, Henry was charming, and the town was appealing, but Killian had _loved_ the band and her and the life they'd had together. She couldn't understand how staying in one place for so long hadn't driven him crazy.

She was about to push her way from the back kitchen into the main diner when she realized that she could hear voices from the restaurant, pitched low and serious, as though they were sharing secrets.

Perhaps it was this new exposure to the gossip-economy of Storybrooke, but Milah stopped and listened.

"Where's your mum, lad?"

That was Killian's voice, and Milah thought she knew who he'd be talking to so gently.

"She thinks I'm at the antique shop."

She'd been right, it was Henry Swan's voice responding.

"You're a bit young to be sneaking around on her. I didn't think you'd start that until you were a teenager anyway."

"She wouldn't be mad I'm here," Henry said, though he sounded unconvinced. "She trusts you."

"Aye, I know she does, but she likes you to be where she expects you."

"I'll go over in a minute. I just… I needed to talk to someone about… something. I can't talk to my mom about it, 'cause she's my mom. And I can't talk to Grace about it 'cause she's… well she's kind of part of it. I thought about calling my dad, but he and Tamara are busy with wedding planning and… and I didn't want to bother him."

"I honestly don't think your dad would be bothered if you called him, wedding planning or not. That said, you're always welcome to talk to me about anything. You know that, right?"

"I think you might know more about this than my dad, honestly."

Killian snorted. "Unless it's about making strawberry milkshakes or playing guitar, I doubt that."

"It's just… you love my mom, right?"

There was a strange silence for a long moment before Killian sputtered.

"I… what?"

"Not like… not like that, I mean but… well… you're always together, and you make each other laugh, and when something happens and she needs someone, you're always the first person she calls, and you always come when she needs you, and when you need her…"

"Aye, she's always there. But that's not… your mum and I aren't…"

"Right, I know. Milah's your girlfriend, everyone says so. So I guess what I'm wondering is what's the difference? How do you know when you love someone and want them to be your girlfriend and when you love someone and just want to be their friend?"

"First, everyone is wrong saying that Milah is my girlfriend. She used to be, but now it's complicated. However, I don't think you're really asking me about Milah or your mum, are you? This is about Misses Madigan and Pendragon, aye?"

"Yeah," Henry muttered. "See, I really like Grace, you know? I always have- she's been my best friend since forever, and she knows everything about me. And I don't know Violet as well, but every time I talk to her it's just…"

"Your stomach starts knotting up and you can't stop smiling or blushing?" Killian hazarded.

"Yeah," Henry said again. "So what's the difference? How do you know if someone should be your girlfriend or just your friend?"

Killian laughed. "Gods, Henry. If I knew the answer to that, I could make a million dollars and wouldn't be running the Jolly here in Storybrooke. They'd give me the Nobel Prize."

"What?"

He chuckled again. "Never mind, you'll understand when you're older. Look, lad, it's not that simple. See, there are some people that, when you meet them, they turn your brain to mush and fill your stomach with butterflies, and you can't think about anything else but them, no matter how hard you try. And those feelings… sometimes they stick around forever, but mostly they don't. Sometimes, when they go away, the person who is left who you can see now 'cause your brain is working right again is amazing. You love talking to them and spending time with them and you never want them to go away, and that's mostly what the stories talk about when they talk about falling in love.

"But sometimes the feelings go away, and your stomach stops doing flips around a person, and they're less interesting than you thought they were. Maybe, when your brain wasn't working, you thought it was okay that they only ever liked watching TV, and you preferred reading books, right? But then, once everything gets a little less confusing in your head, you find that you don't like that when you want to read your book, the TV is always on distracting you. So, once those feelings wear off, you just don't like the person as much as you thought you did. Stories don't talk about that as often, but it's a lot more common.

"And then, sometimes, you never really get those stomach-swooping feelings. You meet someone and you like them and you spend time with them and you become friends and eventually, sometimes, you discover that you've fallen in love with them without even noticing. And there's nothing earth-shattering or heart-pounding about it. It just… happens."

"That… sounds complicated," Henry said.

"Aye lad, it is that. And what makes it more complicated that the same thing is happening to everyone- and maybe the person you're feeling for isn't feeling for you, or they're feeling for someone else. And maybe you get the stomach butterflies while the other person gets just the friendship. And sometimes you think that this person is the right one, and they think you're not."

"How does anyone end up with anyone else then?" Henry asked, sounding worried.

"Luck, mostly. And you meet a lot of people, make friends with a lot of people, and feel for a lot of people. Sometimes it'll work out and you'll fall in love, and sometimes you'll just make a friend, which is just as good and sometimes better, and sometimes you'll meet someone that you wish you hadn't. But that's part of life too, my lad. So I don't think you should make any decisions about the rest of your life as regards Grace and Violet. Just keep being friend to both of them, alright?"

In the kitchen, still listening, Milah nodded silently to herself and made her way to the stairs up to the flat above the diner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I gotta be honest, y'all: this is probably my second-favorite chapter I've written for this entire 'verse, including the ones you folks haven't gotten to see yet. (My fave so far is the Christmas thing I wrote with Liam that's depressing as hell. I kind of suck that way.)**
> 
> **I do hope you enjoy it.**

Killian slowly climbed the stairs to his flat, worried what he'd find at the top, his head still spinning with his conversation with Henry.

It had been on his mind all day, and the rain had conspired to keep all but a tiny trickle of customers away from the diner, so he couldn't even distract himself with work. The only good thing was that the rain had kept Emma away. Killian didn't think he'd be able to face her. His heart had nearly stopped as he'd watched her old yellow Bug make its way around the square and stop in front of Jeff's place. He'd blessed his luck as, once she'd picked up Henry, the Bug continued around and passed the Jolly without hesitation.

What with one thing and another, he hadn't even noticed that Milah hadn't been there. It'd been a time since he'd been in any kind of relationship, even one as strange and unsettled as his with Milah these days, but he did remember that forgetting one's partner for five hours at a time is Bad Form.

That, he supposed, was the issue that Henry had inadvertently pointed out: Emma had scarcely left his mind all day, while Milah had scarcely crossed it.

When he reached his door, he hesitated again. She was there, on the other side, singing quietly to herself. She had a lovely voice, she always had. He'd fallen in love with her voice first, all those years ago, and then with the horizon in her eyes and the stage lights in her dreams.

_The greasy, smoke-filled pub had been Silver's idea, not Killian's, but he'd sworn that the music would be worth the cheap, cloudy beer and unwashed masses._

_He'd been wrong for the first two acts- college kids with too much time and money, who'd learned to play four chords on their expensive guitars and had fancied themselves John Lennon._

_Killian had always preferred George Harrison anyway._

_Then the third act had mounted the stage and the entire bar had seemed to hold its breath. This was what they'd come for._

_She was beautiful, the stage lights glinting in her night-dark hair and highlighting her high cheekbones, she belonged under the floodlights. Her guitar was old and loved, and the first chord rang true as a church bell._

_And then she began to sing._

_She was a Siren of old. Her voice set his blood dancing in his veins, arrested his lungs, and froze his limbs. He thought perhaps he did not take a breath or blink the entire time she was on stage and felt, once she finished and the applause nearly brought the roof down, that he was emerging from deep water._

" _Where's she going?" Killian asked as she took a bow and left the stage._

" _To the bar," Silver said, an odd smile on his face. "You should buy her a drink."_

_Killian watched her put the guitar lovingly into its case and walk with a sway up to the bar and settle it beside her stool. He liked the way her hands occasionally wandered down to brush over the case, as though to make sure it were still there, like it was important- an extension of herself. It was not unlike a mother checking to be sure her child remained within reach, and it touched a strange, foreign part of Killian's makeup that he'd thought had died alongside his own mother so many years ago._

_He shook off these maudlin thoughts and hitched a grin onto his face. If Silver had been paying attention, he'd have called it Killian's "Sex Panther" grin- 60% of the time it works every time- but Killian preferred to think of it as his "dashing rapscallion" look, and he insisted it worked far more than 60% of the time._

" _Good evening," he said smoothly, taking the seat next to her at the bar. "I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your set before."_

_He thought he'd struck a nice balance between flirtatious without being pushy, and complementary without being fawning and he was patting himself on the back even as she turned to him. The look she gave him, however, made him feel suddenly as though he were a spotty-faced boy scarcely out of high school. It was patronizingly amused and just a little bit annoyed._

" _Oh yes? Come over here to tell me I've the voice of an angel, have you?"_

_Killian blinked in surprise. She'd been expecting a line- had probably heard them all before, in fact. He suspected that Silver might have suggested he do this just to see him strike out._

_No quitter he, however, Killian just ratcheted up the power on his grin and plunged forward._

" _No," he said baldly, and was pleased that she blinked in surprise. "I wouldn't say you'd the voice of an angel. I'd say you had the voice of a Siren. See, when I think of angel voices, I mostly think of men devoting the rest of their lives to goodness and God. And that's all well and good, but when I listen to you, goodness and God are the last things on my mind."_

" _I've no doubt," she said, dryly._

_Killian ignored this. "For the voice of a Siren, men dashed their ships upon the rocks and threw themselves into the sea in writhing ecstasy._ That _was how your set made me feel."_

_Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyes were wide. "Well…" she said after a moment, sounding surprised. "That was unique at least."_

_He grinned. "That's me. 'Unique at least.'" He offered her his hand. "Killian Jones."_

_To his slight surprise, she took it. "Milah Bael."_

" _May I buy you a drink, Milah Bael?" he asked._

_Her expression quickly shifted from surprised interest to what he could only categorize as disappointment._

" _I'm sorry, Killian, but I need to be getting back home soon to my… to my husband."_

" _Ah," he said, not sure what else to say, the disappointment leadening his heart. "Husband. Of course. Better man, and all."_

_They sat quiet for a moment._

" _When do you next play here, Milah Bael? Or anywhere, actually. I want to hear you again."_

" _You do?" she asked, surprised. "Even though you know I have a husband?"_

_Killian laughed. "I just told you what I thought of your set. If I could choose the last sound I ever hear in life, it would be your singing, and you having a husband doesn't change that."_

" _Oh. Well then… I play again on Saturday. A much longer set."_

_He smiled softly. "I'll be here."_

He'd told Jack Silver that night that he was in love with Milah Bael, to the other man's surprise and derision. Silver had spent the next few days trying to talk him out of returning to the pub to hear the married woman with the mythical voice, but come Saturday, Killian had been there practically when it had opened, camping at a table right at the front of the stage, drinking bad beer and waiting.

After her set, she'd bought him a drink and an hour later they'd been making love in his dorm room while his roommate studied in the library.

She'd taught him to play guitar and told him her dreams of touring with a real band and six weeks later he'd dropped out of school to follow her dreams.

Killian couldn't help a smile at these reminiscences. Of course Milah had arrived in Storybrooke expecting to find him stultifying. He'd been impetuous then- falling in love over the course of five songs, committing himself to her in five weeks, and staying with her for three years. She'd come expecting Killian Jones, the boy he'd been, and she'd found Killian Jones, the man he'd become.

He was long overdue to stop being a coward and tell her that he couldn't leave this place that was his home, and these people who were his family.

He took a deep breath, and entered his flat, following her Siren's song to his bedroom.

Her bag was open on the bed, nearly full, and she was folding clothes from one of his laundry baskets into it. He could tell that she knew he was there, but she kept singing, and he waited, leaning against the door jamb, watching.

Her voice was still low and compelling, but he found, as he listened, that it didn't fill him up the way it had as a younger man. He thought, perhaps, that he was less empty than he had been then.

Her song came to an end, and she didn't start another. She didn't look at him as she continued folding clothes into her suitcase.

"You once said that you would dash your ship against the rocks or… how was it you phrased it then? You've a nice way with words and it was quite compelling. Oh yes, throw yourself into the sea in writhing ecstasy for love of my voice. But it isn't that way anymore, is it?"

"I suppose," he said slowly, choosing his words with care. "I suppose I've a mast to bind myself to now."

She said nothing, and still did not look at him, but he saw her nod.

"You're leaving then?" he asked. It was obvious that she was, but he couldn't seem to find a way to keep the question out of his voice.

"Yeah," she said softly, finally turning to face him. "I think it's time."

"I can't-" he began, though it seemed clear that she knew. "I won't be-"

"I know."

They stood in silence for a long moment, Milah holding an undershirt clutched in her two hands getting horribly wrinkled, Killian clenching and unclenching his jaw, neither knowing what to say.

Inevitably, it was Milah who broke the silence.

"I suppose I didn't think about how long five years really is," she said, giving him a crooked smile.

"Sometimes it feels like five hundred," he murmured.

"Other times it feels like five days," she countered. "I thought… I thought I knew you."

"You did," he said, wishing he could comfort the small, hurt sound of her voice. "I'm a different man."

She shook her head and gave him a small smile. "No, I don't think you are. I think… I think when I met you, you were like a ship adrift at sea, and I became your sail. But you've found a harbour here, and I think she is your anchor."

"She?"

Milah narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Oh don't act stupid, Killian, it doesn't suit you. And don't insult me. I'm not blind."

"Honestly, Milah, there's nothing-"

"I'm aware, but that's because one or both of you is a coward, not because there's nothing there." She sighed and shook her head, turning away from him again. "I told myself I wasn't going to get involved, but then you come and stand there and you're still… you. And I still care for you, Kil. I never stopped. So I'm going to say this, and you'll have to just take it in the spirit it's given, alright?" She turned and took a single step across the small bedroom, putting herself into his space. She took his left hand into hers, fingers skating over the twisting scars, and then pushed his sleeve up to reveal her own name. "Ships aren't meant to stay in harbour, love," she said, silvery grey eyes meeting vivid blue.

"Will you stay tonight?" Killian asked quietly.

She smiled at him, a true smile for the first time. "No, best I don't. I'll finish packing and be out of your way."

She lifted his hand and kissed the scar that cut her name in half up his arm, then dropped it and stepped away.

"At least I know you can't forget me."

Killian gave her a smile as well. "I never could."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **So this ends "If You're Out On The Road" for the Where You Lead 'verse. Tune in next week for the first installment of "To Me That's What You're Worth"**
> 
> **Also, for those of you interested in the missing scenes and one-shots I write for this 'verse, there'll be a new one in "I Will Follow" very shortly.**
> 
> **Once again, my next post may be from jail as I spend my weekend engaging in civil disobedience, so wish me luck!**

It had rained all night, stopping only in the darkest hours before the dawn, and the grass in the small churchyard was still wet enough to soak through the seams of Killian's boots, leaving his toes cold in his wet socks.

"You know," he said to the damp grey stone that bore his brother's name across its face, "I always told myself you wouldn't approve of Milah, considering the whole business with her husband. I thought you'd get honourable and self-righteous and I told myself I couldn't subject her to that. You did always love Emma though. I think if it were you here instead of me, you might have married her by now. At least you'd be watching out for her and loving her properly. I was always the coward of the pair of us."

He shifted his stance on the sodden ground and reached up to touch the ring that he always wore on a long chain under his shirt- Liam's ring- unsure how he felt about speaking to his brother's bones. It was the first time he'd been to the gravesite in years. The previous night, alone again in his bed and unable to sleep, Killian's mind had turned not to women or to love, but to Liam Jones. And so he had found himself, in those dawn hours, not starting his workday at the diner that had been his brother's first, but going out to see if he could raise a ghost.

Or, perhaps, lay one to rest.

"I think, for a time, I was trying to differentiate myself from you. To be my own man and make my own way. It wasn't until you were gone that I realized that a world without a man like Liam Jones in it is a lesser world." He shook his head. "It started with the diner, of course. You made me promise to do my best, so I kept it running, hoping I'd find someone who would take it and keep your legacy going. But then… it wasn't about your legacy anymore, it was my place. How did you know that's how it would work out? Don't pretend you didn't, because I know you, you cagey bastard. And it wasn't just the work, was it? There was the blue ribbons you always won at the Fourth of July festival for your chili, and the kids' Christmas party with your secret recipe eggnog, and your damned Santa Claus outfit, and you can't leave that kind of thing to just anyone. And I was sure they'd all hate me for taking your place- for being alive when you weren't. Because I hated me for that. But they didn't. They embraced me and made me family-"

He stopped, suddenly, realization dawning.

"And you knew they would," he said, slowly. "It was never about your legacy, in the end, was it? It was always about making sure I had someone who loved me and would take care of me. It was about not leaving me alone, even when you had to leave me."

He shook his head. There was heat behind his eyes that hadn't yet coalesced into tears, and an odd pressure in his sinuses that made him sniffle and his voice thick.

"You great, know-it-all bastard."

"Not exactly a flattering description, but accurate."

Killian jumped at the sound of perhaps the last voice he'd expected to hear in this place, and turned to find Emma Swan a few paces away and coming closer, a small posy of flowers in her hand.

"What the hell are you doing here, Swan?" he asked, his customary eloquence lost in surprise.

She shrugged and looked away as though embarrassed.

"I… uh… I try to come out about once a week," she said, and he could see a flush rising in her cheeks. "I meant to come last night but… well… the rain." She shrugged. "I don't mean to interrupt, I'll just-" she made a gesture toward the stone with her flowers.

"No, it's fine. Sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I just… was surprised. I guess I didn't know you came out here."

She shrugged. "I miss him sometimes. Not as much as you do, of course, but… he was one of the first people who was kind to me- him and Granny. And I've never forgotten that."

She knelt and settled the flowers at the bottom of the stone, bringing a splash of vivid color to the cold, grey granite. She then touched Liam's name lightly with her fingertips for a moment, then stood, brushing at the wet on the knees of her jeans. She stepped back beside him and stood still, just looking at the stone.

After a long, quiet moment, she spoke again, a breath of laughter in her voice.

"He asked me out once, you know. Right after Henry was born."

Killian wasn't surprised. He'd said it to Liam only minutes before.

"And did you…?"

"No," she said. "It wasn't… he didn't do it because he was in love with me or he wanted me. It was never like that between us. I think he just felt… honor-bound. He thought he could take care of me. He could save me."

"He might have done though," Killian said, fairly. "He'd have been kind to you, and been a good father to the lad."

She shook her head again. "And sanctimonious and pig-headed." Killian barked a laugh at that. "No, nobody saves me but me."

"Aye, that's true enough. Where is Henry, by the by?"

"Still asleep. He was up late playing video games. I left him a note saying I was going to run some errands and would be back in time for lunch. I'm sure I'll get home and he'll have eaten us out of cereal and be blissed out on sugar and Saturday Morning cartoons. Where's Milah?"

"Heading back to the band, I believe."

Emma took a deep breath, seeming to steady herself for something. "He talked about you all the time, you know. Liam," she said in a rush. "I didn't pay as much attention as I should have… Henry was young and I was… young. But he was always talking about you- his little brother who was setting the world on fire. He worried about you a bit- like brothers do. But more than anything in the world, he wanted you to be happy. And maybe I'm overstepping myself here but… well… I don't know if you came to ask his permission or what but… I'm pretty sure he'd have told you to do it. Let the diner hang. Let Storybrooke hang. Let his grave… It's just… if traveling the country with the band and Milah is what would make you happy, it's what he'd want you to do. And it's what _we_ all want you to do too. The rest of us here. We'll miss you… a lot… but you'll always have a place here, any time you want to come back. But it'd be selfish of us to try to… to keep you here. To weigh you down. And-"

"Will you marry me?" Killian cut her off.

Emma's mouth hung open, her eyes wide and her face going suddenly pale. "What?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't think of anything else to make you stop talking. I'm not going with Milah."

"Oh. Okay. I'm sorry."

"For what you said or for Milah leaving?" Killian asked, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

"Either. Both?"

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side and, giving into a strange impulse, he pressed his lips to the baby-fine hair at her temple. She tensed in his arm, but did not pull away.

"She said when she met me I was like a ship adrift at sea, and she was my sail," he said, trying to distract both of them from his uncharacteristic behaviour.

"Aren't ships usually women?" Swan asked, and he was pleased that she was playing along with his distraction tactic.

"I honestly don't think she was trying to compliment me," he said. "Anyway, she said that Storybrooke had become my harbor, but that ships aren't meant to stay in harbor forever."

"Oh… so she does think you should go back on the road with her?"

"Not necessarily, and her premise is flawed anyway. You see, Love, a ship isn't really designed to be a very good home. Not forever, anyway."

"No? I thought people lived on ships a lot."

"I'm not saying it's impossible, but even the nicest ships tend to be cramped, damp, and full of rough men."

"Could be worse…" Emma teased, grinning up at him. "Rough men do have their appeal, after all."

"Not for me, now hush. A ship might, however, be built of fine wood. The kind that can be used to make a proper home. _And_ ," he continued when she opened her mouth as though to interrupt him again, "if, say, that ship had a strong anchor, it could be re-shaped so that that home had a foundation of iron."

"I'm not sure an iron foundation would be architecturally sound," Emma said, frowning. "Wouldn't it rust, and then you'd have your house falling in on you? Also, wouldn't the wood from a working ship be water-damaged and covered in barnacles?"

Killian sighed, but couldn't help smiling. "My dear Swan, metaphor is completely lost on you."

"That's true. Mary Margaret nearly gave up on me when she was trying to get me through the tests for my GED." She wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him bodily in the direction of town. "If you're done here, it's past time to open up the Jolly. I was going to get some coffee from you once I was done here. At least now I'll know it's fresh."

"You only love me because I make better coffee than you," Killian said, allowing her to guide him away from Liam. He wondered if she'd notice his use of the word 'love.'

"You have a few other redeeming features, but yes. That's most of it."

Killian laughed and, arms around each other, the two returned to their safe harbor.


End file.
